Thick

Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Blaire's POV:

My hands trembled as I put in the earrings management gave me to wear, as Lou touched up my hair.

I was going in my first "date" with Harry, and apparently I had to be "perfect". I was really nervous, because I heard the Paps can be particularly nasty. Not to mention the fans. I shipped Larry, and I had seen and done things in the internet, but I'm about to find out what it's like to be on the receiving end.

************

As the door slammed shut to my apartment, I completely broke down. "Oh my god..." I whimpered.

My dress was torn, my necklace broken, my arms were bruised and my left knee was scraped.

They're words rang through my head like church bells as I pressed my back to the door, sinking down to the floor. I could still hear them outside, the fans and the paparazzi, as I replayed the night.

Me and Harry getting swarmed as we entered the restaurant...

Me and Harry getting seated and finding out that out location had been leaked...

The Paps sneaking into the building and ambushing us...

Paul trying to get us out safely...

Me losing Harry AND Paul in the crowd, and being attacked...

And the words...

"You whore, you're only using Harry for his fame!"

"Larry is real! Stop being a fucking beard!"

"They could have at least gotten a pretty beard for Harry, god."

I can't NOT see her, the fucking cow."

"Ew, look at her hair!"

"I'm so glad MY thighs don't touch."

"She's so weak! She's not even fighting back!"

Those were on the good side of things, as I got pushed around and clawed at. The rest was a blur; how I got to the car and home with Harry.

"Blaire, I-I'm so sorry. I didn't know they knew about our location, this is all my fault. I'm so fucking sorry," Harry pleaded.

I cried into my hand, shaking my head. "No, no it wasn't. I'll try to be better at this, I should have seen it coming. It's what I'm for, right? Publicity? It's all part of the job. I just need to get used to it. Just-please, go. When the fans leave; go. Ok? I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for the lovely dinner," I said dryly, standing up.

Harry pulled me into a hug, as I tried to get by him.

"Blaire, I'm really sorry. Please-"

"Harry, I just need some sleep okay? Trust me. You probably do too. If they don't leave, you can stay on the couch or something, but just please leave me alone," I said, brushing past him to my bedroom.

***********

I sighed as I looked in the mirror. What was wrong with my hair? I thought it was actually quite nice the way Lou had put it. Was it too short? Too long? Did they not like the color, the texture, the thickness, the style? Was it greasy?

I stripped myself and hopped in the shower just in case, hoping to wash off how dirty I felt. As I stepped in, I looked down at myself. Why is having my things touch bad? I'm not overweight. I mean, it's not like I'm one of those girls in the Victoria's Secret model catalogue, but I'm not fat.

Right?

As for being weak, are girls supposed to be muscular?

I mean, yeah I'm kinda weak, but it's because of the Lime Disease that I had when I was in year 3 (SECOND GRADE). I haven't been able to put on much muscle since.

I know, I know, weird side affect right? Yeah.

I sighed as I did a second shampoo, just in case.

***********

Harry's POV:

"Dammit," I curse as Blaire enters her room.

I knew the fans weren't going to like her, they never do, but did they have to be so nasty?

Don't they know she's a real person? With feelings?

Don't they know they're comments hurt her?

She tries to tell me they don't bother her, that they were just unexpected, but I know that they did. I can see it in her face.

I sigh, dialing the number I know so well.

"Harry? Where are you?" Louis asks.

"The fans trapped me at Blaire's house. If they don't go away, I may have to sleep on her couch. I'm sorry, babe," I said, running my hands through my mass of hair, undoing its gel.

"The press will go crazy over that, I'm sure," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry babe. I'll see you in the morning, love you."

"Love you too. Goodnight, Harry."

" 'Night, Lou," slowly bringing down the phone and disconnecting.

What have we gotten ourselves into?